


Confidence Trick

by Tigerine (sealink)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealink/pseuds/Tigerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sei is working to overcome his fear of being surrounded by people he doesn't know--a holdover from days of being poked and prodded by lab researchers. In the brisk chill of an early winter day, Noiz and Sei set out to get the things they need for a hot pot, but there's more in store for them on this short trip than either of them guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidence Trick

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic in fulfillment of the DMMD Secret Santa for tumblr user misscocokat. They said that they would like to see some cute domestic stuff, but it's hard for me to leave it at just that. 
> 
> I hope this meets your expectations. Merry Christmas!

It is not easy learning to be human outside of a lab. Every day is a battle.

Small walks around the apartment building, introducing himself and making friends with the neighborhood cats and dogs, getting to know the landlady by name—they are achievements in their own right. Noiz makes a point of doing these things together; it is easier for Sei to face the reality of the world when he has someone next to him.

Today will be one of the most difficult outings Sei has attempted since leaving Oval Tower: a long walking trip through throngs of strangers, shopping on the busiest day of the week, then the walk back and cooking a meal at the end of it. Noiz thinks that doing this much in one day will tax Sei’s meager reserves of strength.

But Sei will not take no for an answer. _I have to get stronger_ , he insists, and Noiz relents, if only because it means Sei is holding on tighter to this world.

Noiz watches Sei wind the scarf around his neck, tugging the finely-knitted cashmere against his collar.

“Are you ready to do this?”

Sei brushes his hands over the wool of his coat and then looks at Noiz and takes a big breath.  “Yes,” he answers, his voice shaky and soft.

“Then let’s go,” Noiz says, and he opens the door of their small apartment. The cold air is a shock to the system after being in such a toasty space, but they have no choice but to brave it for the sake of groceries. They walk down the stairs together, Sei holding on to Noiz’s arm and Noiz holding on to the railing. The open-air stairwell has signs of ice on some of the landings; picking their way around the slick patches takes time, but they aren’t in a hurry. More than once, an icy spot has them grabbing the railing to avoid a bruised tailbone.

The street below is busy, jammed full of teenagers out to see and be seen, families on outings, mothers and grandmothers jamming into the supermarkets for the sales that will save them the most money. The fall of Toue’s empire has led to a resurgence in local competitive practices between supermarkets. Old women are commonly heard to remark that the price on meat is the lowest they’ve seen in fifteen years.

It’s a good time out for Ribsters and Rhymers as well. Ribsters are walking around in groups of five and seven, laughing and socializing, their presence as much of a signpost as their tags. One of the group’s members invariably has a duffle bag, which will contain stencils and a few cans of paint—the artist’s hands are usually stained with paint. Rhymers are harder to spot in the crowds, but they’re generally seen carrying their Allmates with them. Their Coils are high-end; like Noiz’s they can manage multiple terminals.

The nature of Rhyme is changed now, without Sei to deliver pain through each attack or suffer each hit as if he was the one who took them. It has taken months for Sei to be comfortable even in his own body, such as it is. Months where he woke up complaining that the sheets were too rough or that his body ached, or that he was able to feel ports in his arms that weren’t there. Noiz simply lets him live like he wants. Like Sei, he is still getting used to being able to feel things that happen to him. He takes each day as it comes and knows that the dark days will be more numerous for Sei regardless of the increasing number of bright ones.

“Good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon, Yamada-san!” Sei seems to be having a bright day today; he waves to the landlady, who is out sweeping her stoop. She doesn’t seem to have caught on to the fact that they are a gay couple living together. Either that or she doesn’t have an opinion on it as long as they’re quiet and they pay their rent on time. Noiz thinks of these practicalities more than Sei. It would be an easier time for them both in Europe, but he is not sure he cares to move back near _his_ family while Sei still has a brother so close by.

“Are you heading out to do some shopping?”

“Yes,” Sei chirps. “We’re making a hotpot tonight.”

The older woman smiles broadly. “With this cold snap, that sounds like a good idea. And you do need to eat well and keep your strength up.” She turns her grey head to Noiz. “Take care of him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noiz responds with a smart nod and this affirmation seems to satisfy her.

“Be safe!”

“Thank you.” Sei turns to him with barely restrained eagerness. “Let’s go, Noiz!”

They walk away, so close together that there is no space between them. The first few streets fall away under their feet; Sei recognizes a neighborhood cat and stops to reach up and pet it on the edge of a garden wall.

“What are you doing?”

“This… cat…” Sei pirouettes, trying to reach the cat with slim, grasping fingers. “She has really soft fur.”

“How do you know?”

“I know her,” Sei says, the tips of his boots scraping against the wall as he tries to get closer. “She’s sweet.” The cat takes her time, regarding the struggling man below the wall with indifference for a minute before getting up and stretching, her tail flicking from side to side in interest. Only once Sei gets the cat to rub against his hand does he consider proper greetings exchanged.

Noiz folds his arms and waits, but Sei spins on the ball of his foot, beaming at Noiz. “Go on, pet her.”

“What?”

“She has the softest fur of any cat ever.”  

“Sure she does.”

“Noiz. Pet the cat,” Sei says in exasperation, pulling Noiz closer to the wall and then stretching his hand up to tease the kitty back closer to the edge of the wall with wiggling fingers. With Sei’s kissing sounds to coax her over, the cat finally lets Noiz pet her. After a few chin scratches, Noiz finds Sei looking at him smugly, as if daring Noiz to say anything to contradict him. Noiz chuckles and starts to walk away and Sei trots up behind him, falling into step next to him and matching his gait. They leave the cat sunning herself on the wall, gathering what warmth she can on a chilly day.

People slowly begin to join them on their walk, gravitating toward the larger centers of activity in the Old Residents’ District. The buzz of a transformer prompts Sei to hum softly, trying to match the sound. When he is satisfied that he has gotten it right, he stops humming. Their breath makes clouds in front of them, and while they wait for a car to pass, Sei tries holding his breath to see if he can make a really big cloud of vapor when he finally exhales. It’s all to keep his mind off of what is coming.

Aoyagi Street is choked with pedestrian traffic, bustling with people walking briskly through the crosswalks, a thick mass of humanity moving as one. Sei tightens his grip around Noiz’s upper arm as people cluster around them, waiting for the light to change to indicate it is safe to cross. The cheerful air around him falls away like a glamor; his face goes ashen and the knuckles he’s locked around Noiz’s bicep turn a paler shade of white.

Noiz reaches up and pries Sei’s fingers from around his arm and takes his hand instead. Sei latches on to him for dear life; Noiz feels Sei’s thumb begin to move over the piercings on the back of his hand. Back and forth, back and forth, the rhythm soothes Sei’s nerves.

The light changes and they start forward through the crosswalk; Sei’s thumb begins to move in time with the crosswalk song. They reach the center of the street; he breathes out long and slow through pursed lips as they walk, doing his best to defuse the panic that bubbles up in him when he’s surrounded on all sides by people he doesn’t know.  


They are nearly done; the crosswalk song from the other side is audible, tinny and electric.

And then the man in front of them drops his wallet. It lands with a slap on the pavement.

Noiz halts abruptly, frowning, and then calls out. “Hey!”

Sei cups his hands around his mouth. “Sir!” He starts to lean down to pick it up.

Noiz’s arm shoots out, barring his way. “Don’t touch it,” he says under his breath. “You dropped your wallet!” he yells after the man.

The man turns around, walking back toward them, patting the pocket of his overcoat. His eyes dart to check first Noiz’s hands and then Sei’s. Finding his wallet with neither of them, he looks between them in confusion before Noiz points down at the billfold still lying on the asphalt. Giving Noiz a dirty look and a barely muttered “thanks,” he bends down to grab his wallet. Sei steps back a little bit, dancing out of his way as he snatches it and then disappears into the crowd. Noiz watches him go and then puts his arm around Sei and urges him to continue walking down the street.

“What was that about?”

“Hmm?” Noiz is distracted, trying to press ahead and get out of the crush of another tide of pedestrians pushing through the crosswalk.

“That man,” Sei says, walking as fast as he can to keep up with Noiz’s quick pace. The curious case of the dropped wallet has piqued his interest. He seems to have forgotten his anxiety about the crowds entirely.

“What about him?”

“Why did you keep me from picking up his wallet?” Sei looks up at Noiz as they walk into the warmth of the market.

Noiz picks up a handbasket. “He was trying to steal our money,” he replies. “It’s not like we have enough of it that we can go giving it away to thieves.”

“How?” Sei looks at Noiz as they walk over to the produce section.

“First, what kind of hot pot do you want?”

Sei narrows his eyes slightly, unbuttoning his coat. “You’re not trying to avoid telling me, are you?”

“No,” Noiz replies, “We’re going to make the hot pot whether or not I tell you, so you’d need to answer anyway. Unless you’d rather eat out again?”

“I can’t do pizza twice in one week, Noiz,” Sei moans with a long-suffering look on his face.

Noiz grins. “Then you’d better tell me what kind of hot pot you want to eat, _Sei_.”

Sei sticks out his lower lip in an irritated pout, but begins to survey the produce section, looking at what is available, what is fresh, and what is on sale. After an appraising tour of the vegetables and the bustling meat counter, he looks over at Noiz. “Mizutaki?”

“With chicken?”

“It’s cheap right now,” Sei offers, folding his arms and shrugging.

Noiz shrugs back. “Fine,” he says and ventures into the fray to obtain some of the chicken from the meat counter. Sei stands off to the side, holding the basket and avoiding the people packed cheek-by-jowl in front of the cooler case. Noiz re-emerges from the pack of shoppers, triumphantly depositing a wrapped tray of chicken thighs with the sale price sticker on it into Sei’s basket. “Didn’t even have to fight anyone,” he says, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Good,” Sei retorts. “I don’t like it when you fight.”

Noiz snorts a small laugh. “The little old ladies are safe from me today.”

“Noiz…”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t really fight a little old lady over a sale.”

“Probably not,” Noiz acquiesces. “Some of them look like they could take me out. Especially since everything hurts now.”

“I’m not sorry for that,” Sei says with a sniff.

“Me either.”

They re-enter the produce section and begin gathering up the vegetables they want to cook in their earthen pot. Sei selects a Chinese cabbage and picks up a bunch of green onions, tucking them in the basket. “So?”

“So what?”

“Why did you stop me from picking up his wallet?”

“People still do a lot of daily transactions in cash,” Noiz says, reaching out to take the basket from Sei. Sei lets it go without much of a fuss. “What he was doing was a confidence trick.”

“A confidence trick?”

Noiz nods as Sei picks up a packet of enoki mushrooms and drops it in the basket. “A scam. The scammer drops his wallet and when the mark picks it up, he pretends there is money missing. If you don’t replace it, he’ll threaten to call the cops and have you arrested.”

Sei stops walking, turning to Noiz, surprise on his face. “Does it work?”

“Usually people target tourists for it, because they’ve just gotten lots of local cash and who wants to get into trouble with the law in a foreign country? It’s an old trick.”

“You sound like you know a lot about it,” Sei muses aloud, ambling over to grab a bag of chrysanthemum leaves out of the cooler.

“I know it well enough,” Noiz replies evasively. “It takes advantage of someone having a good nature and wanting to help.”

“And you knew I would want to help,” Sei finishes, and Noiz nods in agreement.

“You look like the type who would.”

“I’ll take that to mean you think I look like a good person instead of a gullible one,” Sei teases him. “You were probably the one he was targeting.”

“Probably,” Noiz agrees. Being a foreigner continues to pose problems for him at times. The key money that Ms. Yamada had required for their apartment was four months’ rent, and he still deals with the occasional person walking up to him and speaking in English, which he barely understands.

“So what do we do?”

“Do? About what?”

“The scammer.” Sei picks up a small carton of eggs and nestles them in the basket and then looks expectantly at Noiz.

Noiz shrugs, looking in the basket to see what they have left to buy. “Nothing.”

“Won’t he just take someone else’s money?”

“It’s not our problem.” 

A frustrated frown creases Sei’s forehead, but he can’t immediately counter that statement. They wander down another aisle and Sei looks for a package of shirataki noodles. He likes the thin grey noodles better than udon. “Can’t we tell the police?”

If there’s even the slightest possibility that he might run into Akushima while making a report, Noiz wants no part of it; he shakes his head. “The police are almost as bad as the criminals. If there’s no crime, there’s no point.” Noiz looks through their basket again. “I think that’s everything?”

Sei looks through it as well, moving the packets to the side and then he nods. “I think that’s everything,” he repeats back. 

It’s only once they’re standing in line that Noiz looks over at Sei. “You’re still thinking about it.”

Sei sighs heavily. “I never met people like that in Oval Tower.”

“There are plenty of people who will tell you whatever lies they can to get their hands on what you’ve worked hard to get.” Noiz huffs a laugh, stepping forward as the line moves. “Toue was a much better con artist than that guy, telling people that you could come to Platinum Jail, have whatever you want with no consequences.  There’s always a price for something and someone’s going to pay it.”

“And you’re okay with letting others pay that price? Even if you can stop it?” Sei’s soft voice can barely be heard over the chatter of the shoppers in front of them, the hum of the conveyor belt and the beeps of the registers. Noiz doesn’t answer.

They pay for their purchases in silence with the bills that might have been swindled out of them by the con artist. Noiz carries one bag and Sei carries the other, letting it dangle from his wrist. As he walks, he swings it a little more, letting the weight turn his arm into a pendulum.

Aoyagi Street is almost as crowded as it was when they first came through, and again, Sei ‘s free hand finds its way down to grasp Noiz’s. He doesn’t seem to care that Noiz hasn’t answered the question. Whatever the answer is, he has to live with it.

Next to him, Noiz shifts the grocery sack to his other hand. He slides his unburdened hand down Sei’s arm, worming his fingers in between Sei’s and holding on tight.

The light changes and the crosswalk song begins to play.

“Hey! Sir! You dropped your wallet!”

The voice is unfamiliar, calling out behind them. It’s no one they know. It’s not their problem.

But their steps slow to a stop together. With an irritated look on his face, Noiz turns and looks over his shoulder, back into the current of humanity. Noiz and Sei become an island; people flow around them on either side, rushing to their own destinations, heedless of the minor human tragedy about to unfold in the crosswalk.

The scammer is the same man with shifty eyes and a large overcoat. Noiz stands next to Sei in the crosswalk and they watch as the scammer opens his wallet and begins to count money he doesn’t have. He feigns surprise and shock at the contents of his wallet, demanding to know where his money is. The mark’s face changes from one of polite confusion to panic. He begins to look around, desperate for anyone to help him, and his eyes naturally drift to Noiz and Sei in front of him. The look of hope on his face tips off the con; his head snaps around to look at who might have pulled the mark’s attention.

When their eyes meet, recognition moves over his features in a wave.  The strange pierced foreigner and the svelte Japanese man at his side are remarkable enough that he would remember them even if their con hadn’t been a failed attempt only thirty minutes before. Noiz lifts his chin in defiance and Sei simply stares at him with intense black eyes like mirrors.

The con artist’s nerve evaporates. Suddenly he finds that he miscounted, that all his money is there, that he is so sorry for the inconvenience. He melts away into the crowd, moving against the tide of people.

There isn’t any time to dawdle in the street. _Touryanse_ is nearly over, and Noiz and Sei finish crossing, their bags rustling as they hustle to the sidewalk. The mark jumps back on the curb on the far side, still bewildered at whatever has just happened. They do not wait for him.

The cat is still sunning herself on the garden wall. Sei hands his bag to Noiz and approaches the wall to reach up and try to pet the cat again. He manages to catch her tail between his fingers, petting her once before she begins to slap her tail against the concrete blocks in annoyance.

Sei makes a disappointed face and then backs away from the wall, rejoining Noiz. Their hands fall together easily.

“I don’t blame her for not wanting to get out of the sun,” Noiz says. “It’s warm.”

Sei hums in agreement. “I can go see her later.”

Noiz laces their fingers together and looks at Sei as their apartment comes into view. “How do you feel?”

The question is one that they ask each other often; this time, Sei smiles. “Okay,” he answers slowly. “A little tired, but okay.”

“We still have to cook a hot pot,” Noiz says.

“Yeah, but it’s a simple recipe.” He looks up at Noiz, nudging him with his shoulder. “You could make it.”

“Are you telling me to make it?”

“Are you agreeing to make it?” Sei grins at Noiz, squeezing his hand.

“Maybe,” Noiz says with a slightly lascivious glint in his eye. “Can you make it worth my while?”

“I’ll do that even if you don’t make the hot pot,” Sei blusters, color rising to his cheeks.

Noiz leans over and presses his lips to Sei’s temple through his hair, letting the sway of their walk complete the kiss. “I’ll do it, then.” 

“Very selfless of you,” Sei teases him, and then his smile softens. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t go trying to wiggle out of our agreement,” Noiz says with mock seriousness as they climb the stairs, being careful to avoid the slippery patches on the landing.

“Do I look like someone who would?” Sei summons up an equal measure of mock indignance.

“No,” Noiz admits, pulling out his key and fitting it to the lock on their door. “You look like a good person.”

“So do you.” Sei’s voice is entirely earnest now, his black eyes shining and direct.

Noiz pauses with the doorknob in his hand, backing his key out of the lock. “I guess,” he grumbles. He shuts the door behind them, pulling off his shoes in the genkan with his heels. “You think you’re an expert on people now?”

“I’m an expert on you,” Sei answers, unwinding his scarf from around his neck before he sits down on the floor and pulls off his boots. “Isn’t that enough?”

Noiz reaches down and offers Sei a hand up off the floor; Sei takes it. “Yeah,” Noiz says, pulling Sei up into an embrace. “Yeah, it is.”

 


End file.
